


Wedding Dresses On Not Soon To Be Marrieds

by L_C_Weary



Series: Loan's Captive Prince Month [22]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Lazar And Laurent Are Almost Bros, M/M, Pallas And Lazar As Models, Wedding Dresses, humor?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 22:37:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14924177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_C_Weary/pseuds/L_C_Weary
Summary: Lazar was not anticipating this kind of assistance he needed to provide, when he was asked to the king's room in the chaos of planning the wedding.(10-Year Anniversary Captive Prince Month, Day 22, Prompt: Fashion)





	Wedding Dresses On Not Soon To Be Marrieds

**Author's Note:**

> This story makes no sense from the fashion point of view. To be honest this whole mess makes no sense. Please, enjoy.
> 
> Not first language. No beta. You can figure the rest.

Lazar was convinced it was a question of life or death. There would be no other reason for him to be summoned to Laurent's bedchamber, only a few days before the grandiose wedding. There must be a traitor he should weed out or Jord needed assistance in some immediate security program, he needed to handle.

Therefore he was taken aback when in the airy room the atmosphere was languid and bit speculative.

"Your Majesty," he bowed. "Exalted." He looked around. "Charls." The merchant was regarding dresses laid down on the gigantic table that was cleared for that purpose. Another man stood next to him, from his body language, he was the tailor, needles in one hand, three ribbons in other that only differed in shade with only in negligible amount. And then. "Pallas."

Now, that was unexpected. The boy’s face light up when he saw him, he likely was way too uncomfortable at this meeting whatever was going on. It hardly made sense. If it was about their relationship - which was almost impossible - then it was unreasonable to do it during dress up.

Pallas was sitting on chair at the corner, chiton riding up his thighs, hair as a messy pile of deep brown curls, body language of a hunted deer. He looked beautiful nonetheless. Lazar never understood love poetry until he had the fortune to kiss the Akielon's lips that was always pomegranate red thanks to the fact Pallas was always biting them. When he was thinking, when he was flirting, when he was playful, when he forced back words before they insulted someone. Lazar liked to do the same. The biting part.

"Ah, Lazar," turned Laurent towards him standing up, seemingly relieved he could get away from the tailor and his assistant and from Charls and his assistant. Damen did hid his face in his hands. The king signalled to Pallas to join them leaving the quarrelsome men to his soon to be husband. "I want to ask you something that is - to say - far from you profession."

"We are happy to serve if we are capable of it," said Pallas looking at him. Lazar was sure no one should look so cute even when expressing puppy love loyalty. Laurent's smirk was not a promise of fun.

"Hector says," he indicated the tailor who gave them a curt nod, "in this last stage of fixing our wedding dresses we should look at them as outsiders." Lazar was not sure he wanted to understand what was going on. "Now, you," he turned to Pallas, "are similar in built to Damen." Pallas seemed to be lost between thanking it and apologizing for it. "You, Lazar," Laurent tilted his head. "You have fair skin and you’re my height." Lazar grinned more in agony than in good humor. "What I'm asking is, would you be so kind to pose for us?"

Laurent seemed to be acutely aware of how ridiculous this whole deal was. From what could Lazar gather from the quarrel of the professionals this is how they wanted to decide some question, for example the case of the gold stripes the tailor was angry waving in front of Charls.

Sticking to the facts it was a logical step. Their description was accurate. Lazar quickly went through his mental list of Akielons he knew and had a good relationship with the king and he found it a fitting choice. Maybe Nikandros was bulky enough to be a match for Damen, but he was shorter. Lazar well, he was pale as always, sun only burning him, so he did not let it often. He had broader chest but he did share features with Laurent. He was the civil, mercenary version of him. He found that thought funny.

"Gladly, Your Majesty," said Pallas who looked relieved. He was not bothered by the task in hand. Laurent looked at him. They were probably the chosen ones to be able to look at them as a couple, and not some awkward servants or guards put to each other.

"Sure things, Your Majesty." It would have been stupid to refuse, it did him no pain.

The dresses were way too fancy. He knew it was his fault, he never wore anything like that, he felt like he dirtied the dresses they put on him. They made them wash before obviously, yet he felt out of place.

Until he saw Pallas. Of course it made his heart attack his ribs, like soldiers were doing drills at Laurent's instructions inside his chest. Pallas smiled at him before even looking at the kings. At this moment Laurent started to have fun. Damen looked at them knowing but bored.

Pallas wore a chiton, a longer one, it almost reached his knees. It was crimson red, with golden curl on the hem of it. It was secured by a lion pin. He was wearing an enormous amount of rings. He had a symbolic gold cuff too. He smiled shy and perfect. Lazar wanted to kiss him.

What Lazar was wearing resembled the other in simplicity. It was a normal dress, with pants and a shirt with a jacket on it. It was dark blue, Lazar was not confident enough to name the shade. The lacing was gold, the sleeves ended in gold. He was given a small round something, a mockery of a crown placed on his head. He had a cuff too. 

He was grateful for the kings being actually interested in their dresses. They just stood like that in front of the window under the gaze of the six men. Laurent gave a satisfied humming sound, Damen sighed, face of a man who couldn't care less at this moment, until he turned to his lover and his gaze softened. Lazar refused to believe he looked this lost when he was looking at Pallas. Not that denial changed anything, ever.

The professionals were having an argument. As it seemed, Charls was the owner of the ribbons, it was a gift to the kings and as they wanted to put it on Laurent's, the very urgent question was raised. As only one matched perfectly with the shade of gold on Laurent's, the tailor would have to redo Damen's. He felt dizzy in the concentration of trying to point the difference between the ribbons.

"Take his hand," the tailor turned to Pallas, shaking furiously, probably to prove a point that was beyond Lazar's understanding of colors. Charls was a calm man, he was just shaking his head in disapproval. Pallas told as instructed. He took Lazar's hand who was still caught off guard. His lover, after they got dirty glances, improvised, one hand pulling Lazar closer by putting an arm around his waist and with his other intertwining their fingers.

Lazar was not a man of blushing but he was no coward either. He could admit his flaws. He was helplessly lost. It was embarrassing and he felt kind of nice as he leaned into Pallas. Laurent smirked. Damen was not even paying attention, he started to play with a lock of Laurent's hair. It was a miracle Laurent did not cancel the whole wedding because he dared to do it in front of others.

"You do not see it," cut Charls off Hector. "It isn't the same color because it represents how two nations, two countries, two men can fit together perfectly while being their own nation, country, men. It's not about being the same. Or you say it was easy to join kingdoms?" he asked voice on the verge of danger. "You think our kings had an easy job, that it wasn't even big of a challenge?" Lazar could have believed Charls took loyalty this far.

It was the same color of gold. Lazar started to get frustrated. He looked back to the kings and he was not happy. Laurent, who was having the time of his life as he watched them being uncomfortable, decided to take the edge off of the situation.

"Well, as you are already here, I'll seek your opinion too," he started smile too wide for not to mean anything outrages or mischievous that would make the need in Lazar to punch a king take over his common sense.

"We're honored, Your Majesty," said Pallas, who was clearly enjoyed parading. Serving under Laurent made his I-need-to-fight-for-my-superiors-honor-and-be-as-respectful-as-no-one-can-be nerve wear off a little. He was having fun.

"What pose you suppose we should pose for our painting?" Lazar decided this was the moment he needed to act like himself, and he pulled a _Lazar_.

Technically, he pulled Pallas. He twisted out of his lover's embrace and with their interlocked hands he grabbed him and as he saw the confusion in his lover's eyes and he spun him around, toppled him but did not let him fall to his back, caught Pallas by his waist. The boy grabbed Lazar's neck on instinct which made the two of them lose balance for a second. Pallas was shaking his head disapprovingly in his half lying position like they froze into a dance motion but he was smiling. Content. Maybe Lazar wanted to parade with Pallas one day like this.

Laurent and the tailor started talking simultaneously. Laurent in a high spirit, the tailor with terrified certainty. The sentences "I'm - without question - not strong enough for that." and "You'll ruin it!" were lost in each other and in Damen's laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Lazar is my spirit animal.
> 
> (Find me on [tumblr](http://answermywearyquery.tumblr.com/).)


End file.
